


Promise Me

by isleysister



Series: Loud Places [1]
Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Ben POV, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, sorry i felt like i needed to lay down some foundation, this is a throwback!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 14:24:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13742841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isleysister/pseuds/isleysister
Summary: A night of decorating for prom lets Rosaline and Benvolio learn they're more alike than they previously thought.





	Promise Me

**Author's Note:**

> I went back in time for this one! I felt like before I added anymore content to the story, I should write some background for Rose and Ben's relationship. Hope y'all like teenage angst!  
> If anybody wants to drop me any prompts or beg me to stop writing, hmu on tumblr @stillnotoverstillstarcrossed !

Benvolio’s footsteps echoed the halls of La Verona High School as he made his way to the gymnasium. The silence of the school was eerie to Benvolio, having been full of life mere hours ago when school was in session for the day. Now at 8 pm, not a single student or teacher could be found. Leave it to Rosaline to want to work this late on a Friday night. Benvolio knew that as Student Body President, Rosaline was under a lot of pressure to make prom the best night of everyone’s lives, but a fifth “final tweak” on the decorations was a bit excessive. And besides, if prom was actually the best night of anybody’s life, Benvolio figured the rest of said person’s life was bound to be very very sad.

Nevertheless, he would help Capulet do the finishing touches. Not only was he performing his job as a student council member, but he was also trying to not get yelled at again. He was not strong enough to take any more of Rosaline’s evil eye.

  
Benvolio was almost to the red and white double doors of the gym when he stopped short. He was astounded to hear a voice singing. Benvolio shook his head out of disbelief and leaned his face against the window slot of the door. Peaking through the gym doors, he spotted Rosaline perched on the make-shift stage, paintbrush in hand. She seemed to be touching up the sparkling banner that read “A Night in Paris”. Her hair was tied up in a bun, she had on an old t-shirt and jeans, and earbuds in. And she was singing.

  
Benvolio pulled his face back from the window in bewilderment. Either Rosaline Capulet was actually singing with the voice of an angel or Benvolio really had gotten a concussion from that fall he took in gym class earlier. But as her voice continued to drift through the door, his brain finally accepted reality. Rosaline was singing and she was stunning. Ben pressed his ear hard against the space, trying his best to make out the lyrics:

  
_I don’t mind spending everyday_  
_Out on your corner in the pouring rain_  
_Look for the girl with the broken smile_  
_Ask her if she wants to stay awhile_  
_And she will be loved_  
_And she will be loved_

  
Benvolio smiled widely as he recognized the song. He’d heard it at least a million times just this week as Mercutio had been rehearsing it for his promposal to Miguel. Mercutio had a decent voice. It wasn’t dreadful to hear the first few times. Eventually though, after listening to 1000 versions of the same song, Benvolio was sure he’d be just peachy if he never had to hear it ever again. But right now, listening to Rosaline’s silky smooth voice gliding over each note with perfection, he was sure he could stand being tortured a little more.

  
_Capulet will kill me if she finds out I heard_ , he thought amusedly right as the door swung open and the lack of support made his face meet the floor.

  
“Montague!”

  
Rosaline appeared practically out of thin air and was now looking down at Benvolio with her arms crossed and that terrifying evil eye. Her face was scrunched up in anger, most likely an attempt to cover up any embarrassment Benvolio had cost her. Why was it that those two emotions were the only ones he could ever get out of her?

  
Dragging his hands up to rub his sore, floor-kissed nose, Benvolio sighed.

  
“Nice to see you too, Capulet,” he said cheekily.

  
“Mind telling me why you were standing at the door like a creep?” she questioned, her voice rising with every word.

  
“No, no, no, Capulet,” he began as he started to lift himself off the dirty gym floor.

  
“You misunderstand,” he said, arms raised in defense. “I heard you singing, and I was merely shocked. The Capulet actually can enjoy herself? Who knew?”

  
He was trying his best to act nonchalant as if hearing her voice hadn’t basically hypnotized him to the point where he didn’t notice Rosaline herself walking over to the door. She didn’t need to know that.

  
“You heard that?” Rosaline asked, even more outraged. Benvolio didn’t know it was possible for a person’s eyebrows to raise that high, but Rosaline always surprised him. She turned away from Benvolio and began to walk back towards the stage, groaning with her arms making angry gestures the whole way.

Benvolio sprinted to catch up to her as she reached for her paintbrush again.

  
“What’s wrong Capulet? Don’t want anyone to know you like to have fun and sing a little Maroon 5? Because there are worse things, trust me. Remember when everyone was convinced Romeo still wore diapers in the 8th grade?”

  
Rosaline looked up from her almost violent paint strokes and stared at Benvolio. She shook her head and sighed as if his joke was instead a request to copy her homework.

  
“Are you gonna help me or what, Montague?” Rosaline eyed him with an exasperated spread of her hands, so forceful it splattered paint on her jeans.

  
“I’m helping, I’m helping,” Benvolio replied as he hopped on the stage and grabbed a spare paintbrush.

  
Benvolio decided that if she wanted to ignore it, he’d let it go. Not worth making her more upset, which he seemed to be a natural at already. They worked quietly, the only sound being heard anymore being the soft splashing of lavender paint.

  
“Yes, I remember and no, Benvolio. That’s not it.” Rosaline said suddenly disrupting the silence.

  
Benvolio turned to meet her eyes.

  
“So, then what’s the problem?” Benvolio prompted. “Capulet, don’t let this go to your head, but you’re quite talented. I mean that.”

  
Rosaline’s face danced through several indecipherable emotions before landing on annoyingly pleased. “Thank you,” she said under her breath.  
Benvolio kept her gaze and patiently waited for her to continue her explanation.

  
“Singing for me,” she began. “is extremely personal. My mother used to sing to me and Livia all the time and she had the most beautiful voice you’d ever heard. Forget Celine, forget Mariah, forget Tina. I had my mom.”

  
Benvolio noticed Rosaline’s eyes had strayed to the star-shaped lights hanging from the ceiling. Her eyes themselves had almost gone starry, the brown mixing with gold, as Rosaline remembered her childhood. He could understand getting so lost in the past. Every time he thought of his parents, he got a little sentimental himself.

  
“After she died, singing was how I still reached out to her. I guess while I was working, I got a little lost in the task…”

  
“Not even Livia knows. I just like having this one thing I know I’m good at to myself. You ever get that feeling? Just wanting to keep this little part of yourself hidden away from everyone, before they can ruin it?”

  
She shrugged in a mock-casual manner, promptly ending her story. She turned her attention back to painting, obviously uncomfortable with sharing something so personal.

  
“Sometimes,” Benvolio said as he put his brush down and laid on his back, looking up at the lights once more.

  
“When I miss my parents, I grab the guitar they left me and I play. I haven’t really shared that with anyone, not even Merc or Romeo. I’m not as good at that as you are at singing, but I can imagine it’s similar.”

  
Benvolio turned his head slowly and dared a look at Rosaline. She was looking back at him with a soft smile on her face. Benvolio felt his heart beat a little faster.

  
“I guess we aren’t so different after all,” she said.

  
“Guess not,” Benvolio replied with a tender smile of his own.

  
He flipped on his knees and got back to work. They finished the banner, with Rosaline swearing this was the last touch up it needed. Benvolio just nodded, knowing that was extremely unlikely. They packed up the rest of the supplies and made their way to the exit, purple paint and sweaty-gym-smell all over their clothes. The crisp air in the parking lot was a welcome gift.

  
Benvolio wished Rosaline goodbye and turned toward his car. Before he could even open the door though, Rosaline called out to him.

  
“Benvolio, thank you for understanding,” she said from a few spaces down, standing next to her red Malibu. “But seriously. If you tell anyone I’ll kill you.”

  
Benvolio laughed as she dipped into her car with a sly smile and veered off. He knew very well that Capulet could be funny if she so chose. Benvolio only wished he could see that humorous side more often. But he had the wrong name, the wrong family. Too much history.

  
Benvolio got into his car and tried to clear his head. Merc and Romeo would be waiting for him, ready to go out to some party down the street. He didn’t want to show up and bring down the mood. As he pushed his sullen thoughts of lost parents and family feuds out of his mind, something else quickly replaced them.

  
“I don’t mind spending every day,” he sang under his breath as he made his way home.


End file.
